


Golden Boys

by smol_pai



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Half-Indian Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi simp, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, golden boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_pai/pseuds/smol_pai
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, a golden boy like the sun itself.Oikawa Tooru, a golden boy like clear blue water.Two boys who are totally smitten for the other, believe that the other is a perfect golden boy. Two perspectives of overwhelming love hidden under the cloak of jealousy. Why would they try and be anything else?(I'm bad at this lmao, they just simp for each other ok?)
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Golden Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing :)))))))) please enjoy!!

Iwaizumi Hajime, a golden boy like the sun itself. Such a golden boy that he believed in the unbelievable. He would run around in the sun with his bug net in summer, working his skin ten shades darker than his already dark skin. He was able to grasp a tan fast, Tooru could only burn. Iwa-chan (Tooru’s favorite nickname for him) would simply tell him it’s because he’s half Indian. But Tooru would disagree, the boy was golden. Golden boys should look the part, shouldn’t they?

Iwaizumi was the sun, dark and heated like a fiery blaze. His smile glowed, a toothy grin with a blinding gleam. It was hard not to look at him when he glowed, and god did he glow often. Which is why Tooru found Iwa’s actions towards him were weird. He’d pick, nag, and even full-on smack him with a volleyball. Tooru used to joke about it, making comments like “Aren’t golden boys supposed to be perfect? Why are you so mean to me, golden boy?”

He’d play it with a groan, a playful smile hidden behind his eyes. But Iwa-chan would just roll his eyes and mumble a quiet “I’m not a golden boy…”  
Bullshit. Tooru knew better than anyone that Iwa was a perfect child, his own mother preferred him over her own son. He took care of Tooru, clean the house, and cook him lunch on days they spent together. He made sure Tooru was up early for school, and that he got to bed at decent hours. He kept him in check, he was perfect because of Iwa. Tooru almost envied him because of that, felt stuck in his shadow constantly. Every time he’d slouch his shoulders his mother would comment on how Iwa never did that. Iwa always did his chores on time, Iwa always cleaned his room, Iwa always locked the gym. Iwa was always the better one.

Tooru would never admit how jealous he was of his best friend, because jealousy was dirty and wrong. Jealousy was the bottom leaves of a tree, desperately wanting the sunlight to hug them as it did the leaves at the top. Jealousy was the torn spine of a book, its leather old and withering compared to the leather on the cover. Jealousy was the itching in Tooru’s hands as he lashed out onto his lower classmate. Jealousy made Tooru ugly, jealousy made him admit he wanted something he couldn’t have.

As days passed on Tooru found himself dragging his feet along the sidewalk, Iwaizumi was leagues ahead of him. He told the other not to wait for him, and yet his heart ached as the other moved faster. Iwaizumi didn’t like being late, and he’d scold him for being late himself. Yet today, he walked away like it was nothing, it made Tooru wish he’d strap concrete onto his shoes and sink to the bottom of the pool. Something about the way Iwaizumi had been treating him, made his stomach churn. Maybe he had finally realized how useless Tooru was.

Iwaizumi was a golden boy, and golden boys only looked out for themselves. They have no time to worry about those in the shade, no matter how much they hung out together. Tooru remembered the sleepovers they used to have, when he would curl up with Iwaizumi and talk about the stories behind the stars. Iwa would always talk about the different bugs he liked to catch, even if they made Tooru’s skin crawl. As the years went on, they talked about volleyball. And as more years went on, Tooru stopped asking Iwaizumi to have sleepovers. Tooru would spend the lonely nights watching volleyball matches or simply practicing, trying his best to not think about the loneliness he felt. This is what they both wanted, Tooru could never measure up to the golden boy, so he might as well stop trying to.  
\-------

It was like any other day, ones where Tooru could feel the bond he used to share with Iwa-chan slowly fade. He stopped jokingly calling him “Iwa-chan” because he knew it always bothered him. He went home at decent times so Iwa could never yell at him to go home. He started to pack his own lunches, he stopped texting Iwa, he started acting like they had barely known each other. It was for the better, it always would be. As much as Tooru missed his Iwa-chan, he knew he needed to separate himself from the other. He felt like the chain on his ankle as Iwaizumi tried to fly; he felt as if he was the rock tied to the balloon. Iwaizumi knew how to fly-- he was the ace after all—Tooru was just holding him back.

So what if he stared at the back of Iwa’s head every now and then. So what if he looked a little too long at his muscles when he was spiking. So what if he felt his heart flutter whenever he met honeyed eyes that looked golden in the sunlight. He knew he’d stared into the abyss before, it’s dirt-like color was a hard slap to the face. Such eyes were so serious, he remembered the small crease they had when he frowned, how they crinkled when he smiled. Such eyes conveyed so much emotion, the way they glinted with humor and hardened from anger. Tooru knew Iwaizumi could get a lot of ladies with such windows, he just never wanted to admit it.

Something about the way Iwaizumi slept during lunch made Tooru’s cheeks heat up. The way he snored—bits of drool dripping from his mouth—made him look so peaceful. Like how he did when he was younger, lying on the cough and falling asleep from closing his eyes too long. Tooru almost cooed looking at him, something in his soul lit on fire like a newly awakened desire. A desire that might eat at his side. The way Iwa’s hair went every other way, sticking up in odd places and falling over his face in others. His fingers were always calloused, from hitting spikes to his workouts. Something about them were so rough and yet so gentle.

Tooru remembered the first time he’d seen Iwa’s calloused hands, the way they twirled a pencil effortlessly to the hard slap he gave Tooru for slacking in school. Nothing about Iwaizumi was gentle, nothing but his hands. How they carefully made food; softly pressing rice together, sprinkling salt on food, how they caressed every dessert he’s ever made. Something about the way his hands would gently pet his cat, how they fist-bumped his nephew, how they kindly wiped an eyelash off of Tooru’s cheek. Something about them always was so soft, when the rest of him was so serious.

Oikawa Tooru would never admit he had fallen in love with the golden boy, but who couldn’t? Iwaizumi Hajime was as golden as the sun itself.


End file.
